


Dumbledore’s Army

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Cruciatus Curse, Dumbledore's Army looking after their own, Jack's bunker gets a makeover, M/M, Now they can help him, Puddle o' wizards, just because, traumatic memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 19:53:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17773214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: As Ianto's missing memories from the Battle of Hogwarts return, he is faced with the long-suppressed after-effects of the cruciatus curse.  His friends answer the call to come to his aid.  The Torchwood team is brought up to speed.  There is an opportunity for conversation, and an explanation for Ianto's nickname.





	Dumbledore’s Army

Ron apparated back, first, with Susan Bones.  Ianto stood from his chair so fast, it flew back and hit the wall behind him and bounced back.  He somehow managed to step around it, putting it between himself and the table that still separated him from Ron and Ianto’s former house-mate.  “Oh, Merlin, it’s true, then,” he said, his voice wobbling.

Jack moved to reach out to him, but Harry caught his arm.  “I’m sorry, but you’re going to need to let this happen.  We’ve been waiting almost nine years, for this.”

Understanding dawned as Jack remembered Hermione calling Ianto a war hero, and that the Battle of Hogwarts was almost nine years previous.  And he knew what the cruciatus curse was, from a very memorable but blessedly brief experience, of his own.

Susan did not move, but raised a hand, as though reaching out to Ianto.  “Nif, you are here, you are not at St. Mungo’s, I promise.  I’ve come to help.  Do you understand?”

Ianto looked from her to Ron, to Harry, and finally to Jack.  Oh, how he hoped that was true.  If Jack wasn’t real, then…  Well, time to hang it up, then, wasn’t it?  He was not fully convinced, but he gave a jerky nod.

Hermione arrived with a pop, along with Luna, who ran around the table without hesitation and threw herself into Ianto’s arms.  “Oh, my Niffler!  Thank Merlin you’re all right.  I’ve been so worried, and you’ve been so distant.”  She pulled back to look at him, her face going abstract.  “You have the look of remembering, about you.”

Ianto didn’t reply, but pulled her back into a hug, choking back a sob.

Hermione turned to Kingsley.  “Luna and her team have confirmed that the timelines in place are right and proper.  Whatever he changed, it was not meant to happen.”

Kingsley nodded.  “Thank you, Hermione.”

Ianto had slid down the wall to the floor hugging himself, with Luna kneeling by his side, facing him.  “So you remember being captured?”

Ianto barked a humorless laugh.  “Like I’m going to forget Bellatrix bloody LeStrange torturing me.”

“But…” she reached out and took his hand.  “You did forget, Nif.  You thought you fell off your broom and lost consciousness, and came to when the armistice ended.”

Ianto looked at Luna.  “I… I remember that, too.  But in between…  I guess it’s always been around the edges, especially since Canary Wharf, when things started to feel… less… real.  But I suppose you’re right.  I never properly remembered.  It’s more like I _know_ what happened, enough to make me wonder if I’m still really here, but I haven’t actually _remembered_ it.”

“Do you remember now?” she asked gently as Hermione, Ron and Susan made their way around the table.  They knelt around Ianto, along with Harry, who had taken his other hand.  Hermione and Susan were on either side of him, hands on his knees.  Ron was by Hermione, grasping his friend’s shin.

Ianto frowned.  “I was near the forest when I heard Voldemort call for a halt to the fighting.  Just as I stuck the portkey to the last giant I could find, it caught me with a backhand as the portkey took it, and I fell.  When I woke, I was in a clearing, surrounded by Death Eaters.”  He drew in a deep breath.  “They had forced me awake, so I don’t think I’d been out for more than the five or ten minutes it took them to carry me there.  Hagrid was there…”

He shook his head.  “She…”  He closed his eyes and pressed his palms to them.  “Oh, gods…”

Luna kept her hand on his shoulder, but said nothing as the full memory blossomed, like some cankerous flower of horror and agony that just kept expanding, threatening to overpower his entire existence.

“It just went on and on,” he was shaking, now.  “It...  It…  I came unmoored, at one point.  I saw when Harry entered the clearing, with four other people.”  He turned to Harry, who looked startled.  “Who were they?”

“My parents,” Harry replied quietly.  “And Sirius and Remus.”

“Oh,” Ianto nodded, as though this made perfect sense.  “Well, I guess I should say thanks, because you distracted her from me.  But I still say you were a right prat, to surrender.”

Harry sighed.  His friends well understood that there had been no other way, but that did not mean they ever let him forget their displeasure at its necessity.  He found himself grinning at Ianto, though.  He had never given Harry a hard time.  Perhaps that he was doing so now meant that some of his many filters were down.  That seemed like a good thing.

“What do you remember next?” Luna asked.

“I must have passed out.  When I woke, I was alone in the clearing.  I made my way back to where I fell and found my wand and my broom, and I flew back to find the battle had moved to the Great Hall.”  He shrugged.  “I started fighting again.  I watched Ron’s mam turn into a goddess of wrath,” he smiled at Ron, who grinned back.  “Pretty sure she’s the only reason I don’t have more nightmares about B-Bellatrix,” he whispered, stumbling over the name before drawing breath and continuing.  “And then…” he looked up at Harry.  “Well.  Harry ended it.”  He gave a lopsided smile.  “And then I got arrested for shoplifting.”

“Ianto,” Susan saw the mask beginning to go back up as Ianto regrouped, and she knew she had to stop it.  “What was it like?  The curse?”

Ianto froze.  Owen and Martha were on their feet, knowing he was about to break but powerless to do anything about it.  “It…” his eyes went out of focus.  “Somehow, it hurt even worse than the world ending,” his shaking intensified.  Luna gathered him into her arms as he began to make a low sort of keening noise.

Hermione pulled a coin out of her robes and waved her wand over it.  Within thirty seconds, wizards and witches began apparating into the room.  George Weasley and his wife Angelina Johnson, Ernie MacMillan, Neville Longbottom and his wife Hannah Abbott, Ginny Weasley and Seamus Finnigan. 

Dumbledore’s Army had arrived.  They all knelt around their friend.

One man – tall, thin and serious, with white-blonde hair, stood back from the crowd.

“What is he doing here?” Ernie MacMillan demanded.

Draco drew himself up and held out his galleon.  “It says that Ianto needs help.  So I am here.”

Hermione had pushed the wall back from them as Luna and Harry held on to Ianto.  Neville settled behind Ianto, and the others began piling around, forming a huge huddle.  Luna leaned back and turned, waving Draco forward.  He sat and wrapped his arms around her, reaching around to place an elegant hand on Ianto’s head. 

Every one of them was somehow managing to touch their friend, holding him as the pain was remembered and – to a frightening extent – re-experienced.  Tosh and Martha had crossed the room and were holding Jack, who was clearly bereft at being unable to comfort his lover.  Gwen and Owen looked on, occasionally glancing over to Kingsley, who watched with a grim sort of satisfaction.

Kingsley drew out his wand and muttered, “ _Muffliato_.”  Then he began speaking.  “To the best of our knowledge, no one has ever endured the cruciatus curse for as long as Ianto did, and stayed sane,” he said quietly.  The team turned their attention to him and pulled chairs back to the table.  “She cursed him for more than three quarters of an hour.  Hagrid was there the whole time.  He told us what Ianto could not.”  He sighed and looked up at Jack.  “Do you remember the Longbottoms?”

“Frank and Alice?” Jack smiled at the memory of the kind couple.  His smile faded as he remembered their fate.  “Are they still…”

Kingsley nodded.  “Still at St. Mungo’s.  Still unlikely to ever recover.”  He sat back, stretching.  “Although,” he nodded towards Draco, “Mr. Malfoy has proved himself to be a talented Healer.  He has dedicated himself to working on ways to ease the effects of the _cruciatus_ curse.  The Longbottoms will likely never leave St. Mungo’s, but thanks to Malfoy’s work, in the last year or so they have been able to recognize their son.”  He gestured towards Neville and gave a small smile.  “Sometimes you take small miracles, where you can.” 

Progress that never could have been expected.  But Malfoy was frighteningly intelligent, and highly motivated to put the past behind him and make a new name for himself.  To think that the magical world likely had Ianto Jones to thank for that was…  Kingsley shook his head.  The things Jones had done, without even realizing.  It boggled the mind and inspired the soul.

He sighed.  “Bellatrix and two others took turns using the _cruciatus_ curse on the Longbottoms.  They could not have had them captive more than an hour, likely less.  And they lost their minds.  The fact that Ianto didn’t…  I don’t know if it’s because his occlumency somehow protected him, or his defiance, or his resilience, or just that rock-hard Welsh head.  But he got up from being cursed with the worst pain imaginable and just went back to fighting.  Hagrid thought he was seeing things, when he spotted Ianto in the Great Hall, towards the end of the battle.”

He shook his head.  “I’m not saying he’s stronger, or that Frank and Alice weren’t as strong,” he said, looking towards Neville again.  “But that the outcomes were so different was unsettling to us all.  When we realized he did not remember it, we were hopeful there would be no effects.  But there are small ways the memories seem to have leaked out.  Like his fatalism.  And glimpses of that sense of surreality that he described.  And isolating himself in the muggle world…”

“You’ve been worried that he’d end up like Frank and Alice, after all?”

Kingsley nodded.  “As long as he refused to remember, it was a danger.  Now that he does, we can help him deal with it.  It will likely make a great difference, in many areas.”

Jack nodded, hoping Kingsley was right, that they could help Ianto.  The younger man was so solid, it was uncanny.  But there were times when Jack sensed an instability that left him frightened for Ianto’s wellbeing.  If they could help with whatever was underlying that, then he was all for it.

He was stunned at how quickly Ianto had unraveled under Kingsley’s questioning, and he said so.  “Was that your intent?”

Kingsley shrugged.  “As soon as he decided not to dissemble about the time turner, he opened up completely.  He dropped every defense so I could read him and know he was being truthful.  I saw an opportunity, and took it.”

“You hit every soft spot.”

Kingsley grimaced.  “It gave me no pleasure, I assure you.  But he…  He deserves a chance to be whole, and not just patched up and cobbled together.”

Jack nodded.

As Toshiko listened, she dredged through her memory, calling up details of how the Battle of Hogwarts had unfolded.  It had taken place shortly after Jack pulled her out of that UNIT cell and offered her freedom in exchange for ten years of service to Torchwood. 

Of course, Jack had been there, at the battle.  And he had her as overwatch, with a set of drones with high-powered cameras hovering just above what might as well have been a brick wall protecting the school.  The protection had eventually come down during the battle, but there was little she could do, other than take the drones in closer to document the battle.

She and Jack had gone back over the footage several times, out of curiosity, more than anything.  Thinking back over what Ianto had said, something jogged her memory.  “He said he fell off of his broom,” she muttered.  Then her eyes widened.  “That was Ianto on the broom, during the battle?”

Kingsley sat back and chuckled.  “There were several who took to the air, but yes.  The crazy one throwing firewhisky bombs was Jones.”  He shook his head.  “The boy was…”

“A tactical genius,” Jack stated, staring wide-eyed at Kingsley.  “That was _Ianto_?  I… how old was he?”

“Sixteen,” Kingsley answered mournfully.  How many children had lost their childhoods that day?  Far more than lost their lives, and that was vastly preferable, but still…

Ianto’s wails of pain and anguish had given way to sobs some time ago, and as he continued to quieten, a voice spoke up.  “Only for you, Nif.  For no one else in this world would I be sitting here, hugging Malfoy.”

“And I,” came the drawling reply.  “Not one, but three Weasleys.  The world is shifting upon its axis, as we speak.”

The pile of people pulsed in a shared chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” came a small voice from the center.

“Hush,” Hermione said, even as Luna shushed Ianto with a gentle reassurance, and the huddle pulled tighter in silent confirmation of her words.

Jack watched the puddle of witches and wizards surrounding Ianto.  He longed to be the one holding him, comforting him.  But he knew that this was a moment for those who had fought alongside Ianto, that day.   He remembered most of them, but not...  “The blond Healer, Malfoy.  The one they’re complaining about.  Who is he?”

“His parents were Death Eaters,” Kingsley answered quietly.  “And he has paid for their sins, as well as his own, a thousand times over.  He endures outright hostility most of the time.  At best, people treat him with a wary sort of indifference.  Luna and Neville and Susan have befriended him.  And Ianto, of course.  But mostly he keeps himself locked up in his lab.”

Sometime later, the puddle began to move as its various members sat back in a group along the floor.  Ianto was now lying against two of them.  His head lay on Luna’s shoulder as Neville supported his body.  His arms were wrapped around her, his eyes shut tight against the pain that still shuddered through him, intermittently.  She held him tightly and was mumbling some soft nonsense or other.  After a few moments, he sat up unsteadily. 

“ _Accio_ glass,” Luna said, having pulled her wand from behind her ear.  A glass flew into her hand, and Neville muttered the _aguamenti_ spell, filling the glass with cool, clear water.  Luna helped Ianto to drink, then gave him a handkerchief.

Susan leaned forward.  “How do you feel?”

Ianto shook his head, not really wishing to speak.  He glanced up and saw Jack, who was watching him with a look of fierce pride and… affection?  Ianto blinked.  Jack gave him a small smile and Ianto nodded, turning his attention back to Susan.  “Feels like… it just happened,” he croaked.  “Is still happening.”

Susan nodded.  She looked to Draco, who asked, “Did you bring it?”

“I always keep a fresh batch, in case.  I just brewed this up, yesterday,” she answered.

“Were you able to incorporate the changes I sent over last week?”

“Yes,” she answered.  “This is the latest version.”  She pulled a small bottle out of her robes.  Turning to Ianto, she said, “This will help.  When you repressed the memory of the curse, its effects went underground, as well.  They’ve probably been bubbling up in inconvenient and inexplicable ways, since the battle.  Now that you’ve remembered, we can deal with them without worrying about any… repercussions.”

“What kind of effects?” he asked, his voice showing his reluctance to know the answer.

“Some obsessive behaviors, pervasive pessimism, chronic second-guessing,” Draco listed quietly.  “A sense of being immobilized, even though you have full and free movement of your body.  A feeling of being in a body-bind curse, again despite having full and free movement.  Low energy.  Slowed thought processes.  A sense of detachment…” he trailed off as Ianto stared at him, shocked.

“So every time we’ve ever met up for a drink and I’ve bitched about my life, you’ve taken it down as a symptom?” Ianto asked, unsure whether he should be amused or annoyed with his friend.

Draco shrugged.  “It all fits.  You can be cross, if you like, but the potion should help with those things.  Though I suspect,” he said, looking closely at Ianto, “that some of the symptoms were due to the stress of suppressing the memories.  Trying to stay in control of them.”

“So how do you know that these are symptoms, and not just part of who I am?” Ianto asked, feeling embarrassed to be having this conversation in front of so many people.

Draco shrugged again.  “They weren’t part of who you were, before the battle.”

“Who the hell is still who they were when they were sixteen?” Ianto asked, frowning.

“At a fundamental level?  Everyone.  I’m talking about what’s beneath beliefs and experience and thoughts.  Whether someone is of an anxious disposition or is naturally calm.  Whether they naturally tend to be optimistic or pessimistic.  Lucky or unlucky.  Graceful or…” he trailed off.

“Ramrod straight and stiff as a post?” George finished for him.  Ianto blushed.

“You were always very graceful,” Luna observed, letting the rest of the observation – that he was now ‘stiff as a post’ – linger, unsaid.

“Why now?” Ianto let Luna help him drink more water.

“Because you let Kingsley dredge everything up.  And you finally allowed it,” Hermione said.

“Whatever happened with the time turner made you willing to stop running from it,” Luna clarified.  She got a faraway look in her eye.  “You saw a living death, and it reminded you of another, but it also made you realize that you’ve been experiencing a version of that, as well.  You decided that enough was enough.”

Ianto looked around the group.  “Thank you all for coming,” he said, smiling shyly.

“Anything, for our Niffler,” George said bracingly.

“Okay, I’m sorry, but what the bloody hell is a niffler?” Owen asked.  He had sat next to Draco, watching Ianto closely to be sure he wasn’t going to collapse.

“It’s a small magical creature,” Luna began.

“They’re thieving little troublemakers, is what they are,” Seamus smiled.

“Expert pickpockets,” George laughed.

“And they always find what’s shiny,” Luna smiled, pulling Ianto back into a hug.  Her eyes found Jack’s.  “Niffler’s always find treasure,” she said, and he felt as though she had looked into his very core.

“Hold up,” Owen chuckled.  “So he got his nickname for being an optimistic pickpocket?”

“Don’t forget troublemaker,” Ernie chimed in.

“No.  No.  No.  I must protest,” George said with mock gravity.  “Fred and I were troublemakers.  Harry was a trouble-finder.  But Nif…” he grinned broadly.  “Our Niffler here was a trouble _magnet_.”

The others were laughing.  “Who came up with that name?” Hannah asked as their mirth subsided.

“Luna,” Ianto answered, wrapping an arm around her.

Luna smiled up at him.  “He was angry and surly, at times, but that was mostly just for show.  And yes, he had a knack for attracting trouble, but he was so good at rooting out the best in everyone around him, that it seemed the most natural nickname in the world.”

“The fact that we later discovered his talents for thievery were completely coincidental, I suppose,” Angelina laughed.

“No, that’s just how good Luna is,” Harry smiled affectionately at his friend.

“Speaking of which,” Kingsley stood.  “Luna, are you certain the current timeline is the correct one?”

Luna nodded.  “I had Cho corroborate my findings, in case there was any question of confirmation bias,” she said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for the minister to doubt her loyalties.  He seemed more offended by the implication of her words than she could have been.

“But how can that be?” he asked, and it was clear that he was pondering the possibilities rather than questioning the findings.  “How can what originally happened be the… incorrect version?”

Luna turned to Owen and began to study him minutely enough to make him squirm.  She tilted her head to the side and said, “Perhaps not incorrect so much as… unnatural.  Or… inappropriate.  It was something forced, and the world could not have sustained it.”

Jack wondered what her opinion would be of him.  He was unnatural, after all.  The Doctor had called him ‘wrong’.  How did the world sustain him?

Luna turned wide, pale eyes towards Jack, and he had the disconcerting feeling that she had heard his thoughts.  Her next words confirmed it.

“The vortex is natural and beautiful.  But the vortex, forced through an instrument of darkness, is not.”  She turned to Ianto.  “Do you know where he found it?”

Ianto nodded.  “I’ll retrieve it.”

“It needs to be destroyed.”

“Yes.”

“Minister, for what it’s worth,” Seamus began, and everyone seemed to brace themselves.  Seamus didn’t work for the Ministry, so he tended to be rather free and blunt with his opinions.  “Everyone knows that Harry and Ron are the best Aurors since yourself.  But it’s also whispered that Ianto is the best since Mad-Eye Moody.  You can’t sack him, Sir.”  It was a testament to just how much Seamus wanted to get his point across that he tacked on the ‘Sir’ at the end.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Kingsley said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“And you lot,” Seamus turned to take in the Torchwood team.  “He’s wasted here, as a so-called ‘tea boy’.  You’d best stop taking him for granted.”

Ianto was too exhausted to be embarrassed.  Mostly he was glad his friends had stopped by.  Each of them hugged him before disapparating, leaving Ron, Hermione and Harry with the minister and Luna, Susan and Draco with Ianto.

Kingsley looked at Ianto.  “Given that the timelines are correct and intact, I believe we’ll just keep the time turner and call it a day.  What do you say, Jones?”

“Thank you, Sir,” Ianto gave the minister a half smile, but he looked dreadful.

“Susan, I think it’s time,” Draco was looking at a pocket watch. 

“Of course,” she handed Ianto the vial.  As he tipped the contents into his mouth and made a face at the taste, she continued.  “I’ll bring you a course.  You’ll need to take it every morning when you first get up.  Preferably the same time, every day.”

“How many courses?” he asked, rolling his head on his neck as all of the tendons and attachments keeping his head on top of his shoulders seemed to shift.  Luna kept a hand on his arm, helping to hold him steady.

“We’ll have to see,” Draco answered, when Susan looked to him uncertainly.  “Either Susan or I will need to check you over – every other day, to begin, then we’ll see, after that.  Don’t look at me like that, Nif.  We need feedback, to see if it’s working, and whether others might benefit from it, as well.”

“We’ll even come to you,” Susan said, braving Draco’s annoyance.  She well knew that some things had to be done in his lab, but they would cross that bridge – hopefully with a very willing Niffler, since he would be feeling so much better – when they came to it.

Ianto began swaying.  “Jack… shiny,” he muttered as he passed out. 

Luna caught him.  She looked up at Jack, who stepped forward and knelt beside them.  She asked, “Is there a place where he can sleep?  The three of us will get him settled, and I’ll stay, to help watch over him.”

“I have a bunk, but it will be hard to get to,” he frowned.  Maybe the sofa?  He really needed to refit the rooms that were meant to be staff quarters for those occasions when leaving the hub was not practical.

He suddenly became distracted as Luna stared at him, very hard.  She reached out to him.  “Take my hand, please.”  When he did, she took her wand in her other hand and held Ianto a bit closer.

They apparated to Jack’s bunker.  He shook his head, thinking it was only slightly less unpleasant than travel by his Vortex Manipulator.  He helped Luna to strip Ianto down to his vest and pants, then covered him with a blanket. 

Luna stood and turned around, surveying the room.  It was small, but clean and comfortable.  There was a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, and the small bed, with a trunk at the foot.  In the far corner was a comfortable chair and a reading lamp.  Between the chair and the bed was a night table.  The room was clean and tidy (thanks to Ianto), but she was frowning.

“You should brighten this up,” she said.  She waved the wand, and the walls became a lovely shade of bluish grey.  It was very soothing, Jack decided.  She waved the wand again and the furniture was stripped of the years of age and neglect and the now well-oiled wood was shining with the warmth and beauty that had been hidden.  Another wave and the chair was reupholstered and a lovely throw rug appeared on the floor.  Yet another, and the bed was a proper double with what appeared to be a very high-quality mattress and equally fine linens.

She entered the bathroom and Jack heard the plumbing rearrange itself.  He followed her in and saw the tiny cubicle shower was now a lovely walk-in affair, and there was now a claw-footed bathtub next to it.  The tiny sink was now a nice size, as well.  She had expanded the room a bit, but not by a great deal.

Jack whistled.  “Thanks for the renovation, but can I ask why?”

Luna turned that wide, disconcerting gaze on him.  “It’s what he would do, if he were allowed to carry his wand.”

“Why is that?” he asked.  “Why can’t he carry his wand?  All he’s ever told me is ‘regulations’, but that makes no sense.  And clearly you all carry yours everywhere you go…”

Luna bit her lip.  “He thinks it’s because he’s meant to blend in.  With the muggle world, that is.  But thankfully he doesn’t know anyone else who works with muggles.”

“Don’t tell me Shacklebolt doesn’t trust him,” Jack said incredulously.

“No, no!  It’s not that, at all,” she replied.  “But don’t you see… today could have gone either way.”  She gazed back through the door at her sleeping friend.  “If we had not handled it just right, he could have ended up like the Longbottoms.  Or worse.”

“Worse?”

“You do know that he has considered suicide, when things have gotten particularly difficult.”

Jack hung his head.  He had suspected, but there had been the hope that he’d had it wrong.  “Recently?” he asked.

“Not since Lisa, I don’t think.  Though the cannibals were tough to get past, and your absence was very hard on him.”

Jack nodded.  “So he was told not to carry his wand because there was the fear that he would lose his grip on reality and… what?  Attack someone?”

“Not attack, but a great deal of damage can be done by a witch or wizard not in their right mind.  One impediment to that is not having a wand to focus their power.”

“But not having his wand has left him vulnerable to things that would make it more likely for that to happen.”

She sighed.  “I know.  I agree with you, but Kingsley thought this was best.  And he’s usually right.”  She brightened.  “But now, once the potion starts working and Draco gives him a clean bill of health, the minister will likely give Nif permission to carry his wand, again.”

Jack nodded.  “That’s good.”  He looked down at Ianto, who was sleeping deeply.  He ran his fingers through the younger man’s hair, brushing it back from his forehead.  Then he leaned down and kissed him.

Luna smiled.  “He’ll sleep deeply for a few hours, but then he will become more restless.  I’ll watch him, for now, but it may be best for you to join him, later.”  At Jack’s surprised look, she added, “He’ll be having what we call aftershocks.  Physical… rememberings of the curse.  The deep sleep will keep them at bay, but lighter sleep will not.  It will help for him to have someone here, to comfort him.  I will be happy to help,” she said, but Jack broke in.

“No, I’ll do it.  I’ll be grateful to have a chance to comfort him,” he said, “though I’m sorry it’s needed.”

“It will be difficult for a day or so, but it means he is finally healing.”  She grinned.  “If you liked him like this, just wait.”

Jack chuckled.  He looked at Ianto again, wanting more than anything to stay.  But there was a conversation that he would need to have with the team, preferably before Toshiko pulled up the drone footage from the battle.

***


End file.
